domingo, 24 de maio de 2015
she smiles. it's the best "hi" you are going to get. it isn't a bright smile, though. it is full of bitter, disbelief, and for some reason guilt. she is smiling like someone would say goodbye or i'm sorry.
she is just standing there. of course she was waiting for you... she's got that big sister thing that makes the others spill their guts. they must have told her you were on your way.
she doesn't move or gesture in anyway. you feel like you're staring into an animal eyes - they're careful, angry, hurt and so scared. so scary.
you take a look around. the stone room has a yellow light coming from somewhere, but it doesn't make it any less dark.
- i lit it. so you could see. but you won't find any candles - her voice is surprisingly high-pitched, yet harsh and dragged. you know why. you know it's 'cause it's hard to talk, not to stutter, not to overflood the room with her insides, not to fear judgment.
you nod. she is hugging a book in her arms, a little too tight. it's an old, leather covered, big book. the girl, on the other hand, is short. shorter than you'd think, knowing how much power she has coming out of her pores.
her hair is very black, long and straight, with bangs that give her a younger look. her hair is messy, though, you'd bet she spent the night awake and didn't bother combing before leaving in the morning.
her skin is the kind of white that makes you worried. and you can spot purple bruises on her wrists and collar bone... were they self inflicted?
- i have a few questions - you say in a low voice. the situation is weird and intimidating... knowing yourself, after all, was no easy trick - they might bother you, but i'd like you to make an effort...
- fine - she is rude. and you hold a little laughter. of course she is rude, you think, she wants to sound as wild as she feels.
- well... have a sit - and at that moment a table and two chairs appear between you two. and immediately you regret it... you know that table, you both do. it's the one where all the others locked her in when she became too dangerous for herself.
she backs away, the look in her face makes you wonder if she is about to attack you or run away. but she stands still, rubbing her wrists... the place where the cuffs digged into her skin.
- i think i'd rather stand.
- why don't we.. ? - you gesture to the other side of the room. you both sit across from each other, on the floor. - the first question i got for you is related to responsibility.
she crosses her legs and lay the book there. the school uniform is dark blue and white, and you wonder if she's worried about getting it dirty.
- why do you entitle yourself the big sister?
she rolls her eyes. you raise an eyebrow. she is a real teen.
- i don't entitle myself anything. they do. i just do what i have to do.
- and what is that? what do you have to do?
everything is silent for a sec. you almost think she won't asnwer. but then you see it... she's trying.
- i have to make sure they are ok.
- why? ok from what?
- ... because that's the way i know how to keep who i care about close. and probably from myself... because i manage to ruin everything, anyway.
- that does not make sense.
- doesn't it? i am so messed up that anyone close to me just gets infected... and gets in danger. and hurt.
- so why do you keep them around? if you care about them?
she looks at you with such pain in her eyes that you regret saying it. you regret every word. it starts hurting you too.
- because i can't stand it alone - her voice cracks at the end. she really is trying.
- why do you think you are so messed up?
she took a second. you're sure she thought about this before, but for some reason explaining was... hard.
- ... you have to ask?
- yes i do. i really do.
- why? 'cause you think you got to build yourself up again and there is some part of me that belongs to you? well guess what? i am nothing good or savable. so you can just leave me alone and be done with it.
- ... louie, please.
she closes her eyes for a second. and breathes. when she comes back, it's cold and focused, like she was finding strength from speaking without any attachment.
- i am the one who can't live a normal life. i screamed my way through sleep my entire childhood. and then i grew up and it didn't got better... they say it's gonna get easier, that life changes and everything changes along. and you know what? the feeling is still the same... i am still that kid with ghosts in her room making her see things. and no one comes to send them away when i scream.
- why don't you send them away yourself, louie?
the question did two things: both pissed her off and made her wonder.
- is that what you do nowdays? you send them away yourself? - it was an honest question.
- the ones i don't want to talk to, yes. the ones i do, i listen to. i can teach you how.
you can hear her heart from across her chest, clothes and the space that separated you two. but you knew what came next.
- no. fear is all i have to keep going.
you nod. you can't say you're not disappointed. neither that you are surprised.
- one last question... why is it that you think you can't do it alone, in life? why do you need people to need you?
she smiled again. that same sorrowful smile. but this time with a bit of fun.
- i don't want my life to be just hate. and i hate myself.
you look at her face and you are sure you're looking at a stranger's face. it's you, but missing parts.
- it's gonna get better, louie.
and you both laugh. what a crappy promise.